[There's truth in that. There is. Things like him don't always bow down and obey, sometimes they snap and snarl and tear off the hand that holds the leash, but what happens then? Useless rabid dogs, unable to hold on to the splintering parts of themselves, desperate to slip the collars bolted immovably into bone-- they get put down.
(Put down like her like Lily Lily Lily unhinged and full of burning desperation her face as the blade went in the sight of her there in the thick of it with blood dripping from her limbs from her face that smile splitting open wide and mad and full of such exquisite joy, and the moment she knew she was done for something sad and bittersweet and glad like relief it doesn't hurt anymore it doesn't hurt--)
But that's not what he means, is it? There's a roiling anger in the man's words, in that glacial blue as he pins him with his eyes, and distantly Giovanni is aware that this isn't all meant for him, that there's something beneath all that, something personal maybe (vaguely, the memory of Kanda keeping stride with him that time, down in the tunnels), but it's a hard thing to hold on to. An impossible thing.
There's still too much heat in him, too much bone-jarring violence, and underneath it all a yawning pit of fear that opens wide and threatens to swallow him whole.
The words, in a way, they shake him.
Kanda looks away, finally, takes that steadying breath, and Giovanni slips through the gaps in his words to find the core of truth in them, the truth as he sees it, anyway. That perhaps he had, for one ugly glittering moment, become something else back there. Something beyond all control or reason. Less than the sum of his parts. Something that needed to die.
(And there's something small and sharp in him like a splinter slim but deep cutting right down into the core of himself, the tiniest faintest whisper-- and it says perhaps it would be better that way, perhaps it would. Let it all come down. Let it end.)
He is pathetic. Worthless useless weak. One must have control to be controlled and if he loses that, where is he?
Slowly, he bares his teeth in a smile that isn't a smile at all.]
Then get on and kill me, will you? Kill me, or let me go. I'm not in the mood to play this game with you. Show me that merciful side of yours and have done with it. Whatever it is you're looking for, you won't find it in me. I'll go on killing. Endlessly. It's all there is.
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(Put down like her like Lily Lily Lily unhinged and full of burning desperation her face as the blade went in the sight of her there in the thick of it with blood dripping from her limbs from her face that smile splitting open wide and mad and full of such exquisite joy, and the moment she knew she was done for something sad and bittersweet and glad like relief it doesn't hurt anymore it doesn't hurt--)
But that's not what he means, is it? There's a roiling anger in the man's words, in that glacial blue as he pins him with his eyes, and distantly Giovanni is aware that this isn't all meant for him, that there's something beneath all that, something personal maybe (vaguely, the memory of Kanda keeping stride with him that time, down in the tunnels), but it's a hard thing to hold on to. An impossible thing.
There's still too much heat in him, too much bone-jarring violence, and underneath it all a yawning pit of fear that opens wide and threatens to swallow him whole.
The words, in a way, they shake him.
Kanda looks away, finally, takes that steadying breath, and Giovanni slips through the gaps in his words to find the core of truth in them, the truth as he sees it, anyway. That perhaps he had, for one ugly glittering moment, become something else back there. Something beyond all control or reason. Less than the sum of his parts. Something that needed to die.
(And there's something small and sharp in him like a splinter slim but deep cutting right down into the core of himself, the tiniest faintest whisper-- and it says perhaps it would be better that way, perhaps it would. Let it all come down. Let it end.)
He is pathetic. Worthless useless weak. One must have control to be controlled and if he loses that, where is he?
Slowly, he bares his teeth in a smile that isn't a smile at all.]
Then get on and kill me, will you? Kill me, or let me go. I'm not in the mood to play this game with you. Show me that merciful side of yours and have done with it. Whatever it is you're looking for, you won't find it in me. I'll go on killing. Endlessly. It's all there is.